


Fair Rosaline

by darlingdisastrous



Series: Me and My Husband - Anthology [3]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Age Difference, Arranged Marriage, Assassins, Assassins & Hitmen, Ballet, Ballet - Romeo and Juliet, Courting Rituals, Courtship, Curious Reader, Emotionally Constipated Illumi, F/M, First Dates, First Meetings, Manipulation, Meet-Cute, Minor Original Character(s), Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Older Man/Younger Woman, POV First Person, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Romeo and Juliet References, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, York New City Ballet, Yorkshin City | Yorknew City (Hunter X Hunter), age gap, stage fright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdisastrous/pseuds/darlingdisastrous
Summary: It’s opening night, and you run into a strangely familiar man ...
Relationships: Illumi Zoldyck/Reader
Series: Me and My Husband - Anthology [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940818
Comments: 9
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after _The Profile_

Opening night.

My heart feels like it's going to explode. I'm nervous, like it's my first time all over again. Like I haven’t spent the past five years making a name for myself. (Albeit, a rather _small_ name...)

This feeling is irrational, I know this; but, no matter how many times I tell myself, it doesn't make me feel any better.

Shakily, I inhale, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I stretch over my box, feeling my ankles pop. My pointe shoes suddenly feel a bit too snug. I don’t want to untie them again. It took me forever to get them just right...

The curtain is going up any minute now. Everyone's backstage, waiting.

Everyone but me.

I stand in the little corridor, sandwiched between the auditorium and backstage. The privacy curtains have been drawn, making the space darker than usual. Only the lamps on the wall keep it lit, and dimly at that.

Stealthily, I pull back the velvet curtain and peer out into the house. There’s so many people. Young and old, wealthy and poor. Though the audience is whispering, the room is loud, filling with their hushed voices.

I draw myself up en pointe, attempting to peer over peoples heads. Mom and dad should be in there somewhere, but I can't see them.

No, I didn’t want to see them. Not yet. It would only make me more nervous.

 _God!_ Why am I acting like this? I need to pull it together, or else I know I’ll mess up. But—to be fair—this is only my second _legitimate_ role. I have a right to be nervous.

 _Nervous_ , not terrified.

"Hey."

The suddenness of the voice makes me jump. I clasp my hand over my mouth, stifling a scream and flatten myself against the pillar behind me.

 _And I thought my heart was racing_ before.

I crack one eyelid open, my fear slowly ebbing away. I can’t make myself look at the stranger, too embarrassed. I laugh awkwardly—mostly at myself and my childish reaction.

I rub the back of my neck sheepishly, "You scared me."

"Sorry."

But I wave him off, "No. It's my fault, anyway. I shouldn't even be out here."

I take a second to steel myself and look up at him properly. _Oh_.

My first realization: this guy's dangerous. He doesn't look it, but there's something about his air that sends a shiver down my spine. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't want to be within twenty feet of a guy like him. There's something about his eyes ...

After the innitail shock wears off, I'm confronted with a second realization. He's _beautiful_. No, he's otherworldly, like a fairy or something. His hair is long and silky and as black as ink. His eyes are the same: fathomless pits, so black that his irises seem to swallow his pupil whole. It might’ve been disturbing, but in someways he reminded me of a doll.

And, when he tilts his head, his face emotionless yet curious at the same, he seems very doll-like.

 _Damn_ , I bite my lip, _Look at those arms. That shirt isn't doing him justice..._

I realize that I've been staring for some time now. (When did my jaw drop? How embarrassing...) Quickly, I look away, my face burning with shame.

"Who will you be playing tonight?" His voice is neutral, like he hadn't just caught me checking him out.

"Hm?” Momentarily, I forget that we’re in a theatre and I’ve got a performance about to begin. I look down and note the program in his hand, _Romeo and Juliet_ scrawled in fancy font across the front. I’m brought back to reality. 

“Oh." I smooth out my costume, the sheer skirt suddenly feeling a little too transparent. "Rosaline."

"Not Juliet?"

I give an unflattering snort. " _No_.” My face burns even hotter. I'm quick to bite my tongue. "I mean—I just wasn't suited for the role. I'm not nearly as good as Yui."

The man doesn’t seem to recognize the lead’s name, or he doesn’t care. He cocks his head. "Okay, then. I always preferred Rosaline, anyway."

My face warms. Was he flirting...? No—just making conversation. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she survives."

I can’t stop the giggle that escapes me. This man ... It’s impossible to tell if he's serious or not. Everything he says comes out in the same, flat tone; his only expression—it can’t even be considered an expression! And yet, he manages to come across as endearing. Maybe I’m just crazy.

"Yeah, I think that's a good enough reason to like someone." The lights in the house began to flash, signaling the ten minute warning. I swear under my breath and push off the pillar. "I'm sorry, I've got to go."

"Wait." He commands softly. I stop. "Who was your teacher."

"My ... teacher...?" The only one who came to mind was Madame, but it didn't make sense why he'd want to know that.

"The one who taught you Nen," he clarified, "Who was it."

Nen...? He knew about Nen, too? That surprised me—there weren’t many people I’d met before, aside from my dad’s Hunter friends, who knew about it. And he was the first stranger to ever ask me about it.

_Or was he...?_

A wave of déjà vu washes over me; but, I shake it off.

"My father,” I say. “He taught me when I was young."

He purses his lips, "It could be better."

Again, I don’t know if he's joking or not. "Yeah,” I chuckle. “It probably could. I haven't trained with him in a long time. I never found it all that interesting, but there are certain aspects of it that appeal to me. Like Zetsu."

"Why did you stop training?"

I shrug, "I just ... stopped. I guess I'm a slow learner and I just wanted to get to the good stuff, you know? Besides, I've got no interest in being a Hunter, and I don't think Nen would help me with dance."

He took a small step forward. "It can."

The déjà vu persists. I recognized him from _somewhere_ ; but, the more I pushed to remember, the further the memory slipped.

I matched his step, "Have we met before?"

The look on his face softened. The shadow of a smile passed over his lips. "You tell me."

I take another involuntary step. The distance between us seems so big, and yet small at the same time. I tilt my head, observing him more carefully. There was something, right at the recesses of my memory, and yet I couldn't put my finger on it.

"You just ... You seem so familiar, I—" Suddenly, the lights flash again. Five minutes to curtain. The orchestra has started to warm up. I curse, "I'm sorry. I really have to go."

He nods understandingly. But I can’t make myself leave—not yet. "What's your name?"

"Illumi," he says.

"It was nice to meet you, Illumi!" I give him mine, but it comes out so rushed, I wonder if he even heard it at all. It's too late for me to find out though.

I'm running back towards the backstage door. Madame is going to _kill_ me. I force myself to move faster, weaving through the other company members until I spot Jo.

She looks at me, both in anger and relief. "Where _were_ you?" she hisses.

"I just needed a moment."

"I covered for you, told Madame you were puking. She was ready to put Himari in-"

I hear my name called and stiffen. It's Madame. She lays her bony hand on my shoulder. "There you are. Have you got it all out of your system?"

I nod once, "Yes."

"Can you perform?"

"Yes. It was just nerves."

Madame makes a disapproving noise, but leaves it alone and walks off.

Jo leans in when she's out of earshot and whispers, "Are you going to tell me what really happened?"

The curtain goes up and the orchestra stops abruptly. Everyone is quiet. Slowly, music begins again and dancers take their mark on stage.

"Later," I promise.

ღ

Daisuke, who played Benvolio, runs with me hand-in-hand out onto stage. He motions to me with a flourish, and the crowd applauds. I can hear my parents, somewhere in the audience. They cheer the loudest and it makes me smile. I lay my hand over my heart, showing gratitude towards the audience, and bow.

I then reciprocate Daisuke's actions, motioning to him. The crowd cheers even louder. He deserves it. Daisuke draws my hand up and brushes his lips across my knuckles, "You did phenomenal."

"I think you meant yourself," I shoot back.

The two of us part, scurrying to opposite sides of the stage and join our fellow company members. I find Jo with ease and we embrace. The adrenaline of the evening has reached its peak. I feel so alive and giddy - giddy that it's over and done with, and giddy because I'm proud of myself.

"You did so well!"

"You were amazing," I praise.

The dancers who played Lord and Lady Capulet run out on stage to take a bow; the Montagues' not far behind. We clap for them and keep our voices low.

"I can't wait to get out of all this makeup," she whispers.

God, that sounded nice. I had re-applied my foundation so many times tonight, having sweat through most of it. "I can't wait for a shower."

Jo lets out an exaggerated moan in agreement. Thankfully, it's drown out by a wave of thunderous applause as the two leads come running out. We all join together once more and take our final bow.

The curtain drops and I sigh. The adrenaline is spent, and my shoulders sag with exhaustion. For the first time in months, I feel like I can breathe easily. Opening night was always the hardest, every performance after paled in comparison to the stress. But, tonight went well. There were hardly any mishaps with costumes or corps members hitting their marks. Madame was _smiling_ ; she was never happy on opening night.

Everyone allowed their voices to raise, congratulating one another, or complaining about sore feet and bruised limbs. I rubbed the back of my neck to rid of some tension that resided there.

Madame lets us go with a few parting words, telling us how proud she is and that we'll meet again tomorrow at twelve to do a run-through before the matinee.

I stalk off, and fumble with my costume zipper until I get it half-way down. The stage is always so hot and stuffy, but dressing rooms might be worse. I fan myself, enjoying the small breeze across my sweat-slick skin.

Before I can make it to the back door, a stagehand calls out to me. "Hang on a moment!"

I step to the side and allow a few girls to squeeze past. "Yes?"

She reaches towards a little plastic, fold-out table and grabs the large bouquet of roses that had been laying there. "Someone left these here for you."

I accept it, my eyes wide. _They're beautiful_. But ... "Are you sure these are for me?"

"Yeah. Some guy dropped them off around the second act. I didn't get a name from him."

It’s not that I don’t believe her; I can’t believe it myself. There's a card sandwiched between the flowers, and it reads: _to the Fair Rosaline_.

The words are large enough to take up the entire front of the card. I flip it over, but it's blank.

I'd only ever received flowers from my family. Sometimes Jo and I got each other flowers, but they were never as big or as extravagant as _this_. And, even then, Jo always signed her cards. I'd never gotten them from a stranger. 

This sort of thing usually happens to Yui. She was ( _always_ ) the lead, and had quite the following.

My mind flashed to that guy. _Illumi_. Could it be possible that he ...?

No, that was just wishful thinking. This was a fluke incident.

"Thanks for letting me know," I say.

The stagehand nods and goes about her business. 

I make quick work of changing out of my costume and sliding on the comfort clothes I had packed. One of the girls is generously offering up makeup wipes and I take advantage of the offer to scrub my face clean. I barely get it all off with one cloth, but by the time I'm finished, I feel worlds better. I finish up with everything else I have to do then wave goodbye to all the girls. There's a chorus of _byes_ and _see you tomorrows_.

My parents are waiting for me when I get out with a bouquet of daisies and a round of hugs.

"Careful, I'm sweaty!" I warn them, but they don't listen.

"You were phenomenal up there!" my mom cheers. "I'm so proud of you."

"You looked great," adds my dad.

"Thank you." I sigh, my shoulders sagging. Exhaustion is finally taking its tole on me. "I'm so ready to go home."

My mom frowns, "But we have to celebrate!"

"Can we celebrate with pizza?" Just the thought of it makes my mouth water. "Pizza and a good epsome salt bath."

"Of course we can," says dad. "You earned it."

We walk together out of the theatre. A few patrons recognize me and congratulate me, and I catch a few more friends to say goodbye to before I leave. We're nearly to the car when mom speaks up.

"Those are pretty, who gave them to you? Jo?"

I glance down and notice she's pulling out the note that was attached. A part of me wants to lie and say yes; but, I'm so tired, I can't make myself do it.

"I don't know who got them. Someone dropped them off for me backstage."

"Really?" Dad chuckles, shaking his head. "Who knew you'd get fans so soon?"

Rolling my eyes, I say, "I don't think it's like that. I think ... I think that someone was just being nice."

Dad doesn't reply; but the look he gives me tells me that I'm fooling myself. And, maybe I am. _Wouldn't it be really night if they were from him?_. It was a romantic notion; but I'm practical. That sort of thing doesn't happen in real life, especially not to _me_. 

"What a sweet note. These are gorgeous." Mom laid a soothing hand on my back. "Let’s put them in water once we get home.”

"But first, pizza," I remind her.

"But first pizza."

We all laugh and climb into the car together. I glance out the window as I buckle up. The shadow of a man lingers by the back door. I blink, and he's gone.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You cannot _tell me_ that when Illumi propose, he _doesn't_ do it like Mabel Pines' confession letter. You can't tell me otherwise.

Laying in bed that night, I couldn’t keep Illumi out of my head. Stupid, romantic scenarios kept popping up. Things like, him giving me a good luck kiss before I went on stage, or the two of us going out to a cute little cafe for a date.

I imagine he’d be a perfect gentleman. I imagine he was the one to send the roses.

So, I looked him up. I know—I sound like a complete stalker; but, I wanted to know _more_. 

I figured with a name as unique as ‘Illumi’, I’d find him pretty quick. Boy, was I wrong.

My empty search results probably had something to do with the fact that I didn’t know his last name. Still, I thought I’d find something on social media.

When I exhausted that option; I resorted to straight up Woogling him. The internet had to have something on Illumi.

Nothing.

It was like the guy didn’t even exist! The world had never heard of a ‘Long, dark-haired statue of a man, Illumi’. How could that be possible? Everyone had a digital footprint nowadays.

All that came up were several posts about the ‘Illuminati’ and 'Illuminate' and basically everything but the one answer I wanted.

Frustrated, I came to the conclusion that there would be no Instafram stalking. No, I'd just have to wait until I could see him again.

ღ 

Illumi didn’t come back the rest of the season.

I've got to admit, I was a bit upset at this. Sure, we didn't have a mind-blowing, earth-shattering, soul-warming first encounter. It wasn't love at first sight; but, I can't deny that I found him attractive. (And I may or may not have talked myself into having a crush on him.) So, the only person truly at fault here is me.

It’s a little embarrassing to admit—even to myself—but I did look for him. Any time I was alone, I'd sneak off into that little corridor and wait to see if he'd come. I would even sneak off _during_ the show if I had a break long enough. If Illumi was there, I never saw him.

The only thing that made me feel the slightest bit better was that I continued to receive flowers from the mystery admirer.

The delivery man would always show, without fail, usually before the performance began. And, it didn't matter if I'd already received them for the matinee. By the time the evening performance began, the poor delivery man (who's name I'd come to know as Abengane) was there again. The order never changed: a dozen fat roses, with petals so red they were nearly black; addresses _to the fair Rosaline_.

Even if it wasn't Illumi who sent them, it felt nice to be appreciated.

Madame was getting annoyed by the delivery man’s frequent visits; after I explained (as best I could) the situation, she told me to “Get an admirer with manners”.

The girls I shared a dressing room with weren’t any better.

“Just tell us who they're from,” said Ichika, donning her Nurse costume.

“Really, I don’t know who sends these.”

Ichika scoffs, "Come on, you must have some idea.”

Shaking my head, I say, "None."

“You can tell us if you have a boyfriend,” said Mitsuki. “It isn’t that big a deal.”

I shake my head, “I’ve already said I don’t have one.”

Was it really such a big deal for _me_ to receive flowers from a patron? All of them had it happen at least once—why should I be any different?

"Ooh!" Yui skips over to my side, nudging me with her shoulder. "A secret admirer! How romantic."

She plucks the card right out from its bed of roses and reads it over. I watch warily from my corner, tying off my ribbons.

"If you ever find out who the sender is, I want to meet him." Yui flips over the card for everyone to see. "This guy is smooth."

I tried asking Abengane. After his initial reluctance wore away, he finally divulged all he knew. The flowers had been paid for through the rest of the season by someone named "Gittarackur". Abengane had never seen them. The order had been placed online, and all the contact information attached to the order was phony.

"I don't know if Gittarackur is even his real name."

Which meant I was back to square one.

Mom thought it was endearing. "Whoever it is, they sure appreciate you. As they should. You're a wonderful girl with amazing talent."

Dad, on the other hand, was beginning to get annoyed with the amount of flowers that invaded our home. And the fact that there was no legitimate contact information on the sender made him even warier.

"Something about this feels off. You can send flowers anonymously—but you don’t go to such lengths to _stay_ anonymous. I think you need to stop accepting them."

As much as I didn’t want to agree, Dad’s wish came true all on its own.

The season came to a close and with it the flowers ceased as well.

The company as a whole was given a long weekend off before the start of the next season and practices resumed again. (The world of Ballet, unfortunately, doesn't take vacations.) So, I did what anyone would do: absolutely nothing. I stayed in bed and caught up on shows that I'd put off due to practice. I napped (constantly). And, I pushed the stranger Illumi from my mind. (It was hard.)

It felt like I was nursing my heart from a horrible breakup. A breakup, I decided, between me and silly romantic fantasies, because every time I allowed myself to get caught up in one, my feelings were hurt in the process.

No more. I came to the firm conclusion that I'd no longer nurture any crushes, or daydreams of any kind. It was time to be practical.

ღ

Practice was back in full swing. Auditions for the ballet, _La Bayadère_ , would begin tomorrow. The studio was filled with a fierce competitive attitude. It was always like this at audition time.

My muscles were still overly stiff from coming back to rigorous training after only two days off.

A large and unsightly yawn escaped me. Despite crashing hard last night, the exhaustion of the first day back taking it's toll on me, I felt like I hadn't slept a wink. I took my time getting to the studio. I was early. Besides, the idea of moving faster than I already was made me want to cry. I need a nap. Maybe some Arnica gel.

I round the corner and steeled my nerves for what was to come. The studio was a hulking grey building, at times looking more like a decorated jail than a place of the arts.

I jogged across the busy street, calf muscles screaming in protest, when I noticed a figure leaning against the building. Their bright green clothes stood out like a neon sign against the slate grey cement.

My heart stuttered. _Illumi_.

His eyes suddenly snapped to meet my own, and a swarm of butterflies took flight in my stomach. This didn't seem _real_ ; it was like something from my fantasies playing out right before my eyes. Thousands of questions ran through my mind, but it didn't matter. Illumi was _here_ , and coming for me.

The two of us met halfway before stopping abruptly, leaving a sizable distance between us.

"Hey."

The words seemed so casual, like we'd known each other for years, when in reality we'd met a few weeks ago.

"It's nice to see you again!" Inwardly, I cringe at my over-eager tone. Timidly, I take a step closer. "What are you doing here?"

"To see you."

The butterflies are kicking up a tornado. "Oh?"

Illumi says nothing, only stares. I tightened my grip on my dance bag, using it as a shield to hide behind. I was dressed like a slob, no makeup and and baggy warm-up clothing. No where near my best.

Awkwardly, I clear my throat, hoping to diffuse the tension. "How did you know I'd be here?"

"I had a hunch," is all he says. I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. "Did you like your gifts?"

My heart skips a beat. _Gifts_? There was only one thing he could mean.

A stupid little grin spreads over my lips. "So it _was_ you!"

"Of course," says he. "I thought that was obvious."

"Well, I thought it was; but, I wasn't sure. I wanted to ask you but you never came back."

Illumi takes a step closer, eyeing a couple of dancers who scurry past us to get inside. "I was on a mission."

His choice of words make me giggle. "Well, if it was a _mission_ , then I think I'll forgive you."

Illumi doesn't laugh. "You didn't answer my question."

"Oh, I'm sorry." I shift my bag to the other arm. "Yeah, I really liked them. Thank you so much. It was really sweet of you, especially considering we only met that day."

A cluster of dancers push by us. I'm forced to take a step forward, only to realize just how close the two of us had become. Illumi's gaze was soft. I could see his eyes clearly, now. From far away, they looked pitch black; but being as near to him as I was, it was obvious his irises were a deep, dark brown. If I stared long enough, I could tell where the brown ended, and his pupils began.

"I would like to get to know you better," Illumi states.

His bluntness catches me off guard. My face heats up as I process his words. Then, I smile. "Yeah ... I'd like that, too."

"Good." He takes a half-step back. "I will stop by after your lessons so we can arrange a date."

"O-Okay."

Illumi nods, and turns to walk away, calling out, "See you."

In the distance, I can hear a bell chiming. I was going to be late, but I honestly didn't care.

"See you then."


End file.
